


take your whole life, then you put a line through it

by gilligankane



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Vanessa ishergirlfriend. Vanessa should have talked about Christmas withher. Vanessa should want to seeher.She won’t go groveling this time. She won’t go making apologies. No matter that it’s Christmas. Charity Dingle plays dead for no one. Certainly not a mouthy, bossy blonde woman who can’t be bothered to know where she’s supposed to be on Christmas Eve. No. No, she’ll wait and let Vanessa come toher.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes from me to you: I drafted this back in April when the world had no idea what was in store for Charity and Vanessa. (Which, by the way, is more than I could have ever hoped for.) That being said, I've taken many, many liberties with canon - too many to list out for you - so you'll have to bear with me. And since this will be in 5 parts, I'll do my best to keep them regular (or at least finish before Christmas).
> 
> That being said, this is the most absurd version of _A Christmas Carol_ to ever exist. I make no apologies.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Charity hisses into the phone. She looks up and catches Chas watching her curiously.  _ Vanessa _ , she mouths, rolling her eyes. Chas’s mouth twitches in something like a smile before Paddy grabs her attention and she looks away.

Charity turns, her back to the raging Dingle do in the living room of Wishing Well. 

“-and I said I would,” Vanessa is saying.

Charity pinches the bridge of her nose. “You said you would,” she repeats, her voice dull.

Vanessa sighs heavily in her ear. Charity bristles. It’s  _ that _ sigh, the one Vanessa heaves when she’s frustrated and Charity keeps pushing at her. Only, she’s done nothing to deserve that sigh; not yet. One of her heels slides a bit in the snowy ice. 

Charity scowls, pulling the phone away from her ear to stare at it as if Vanessa can see her “Only, I thought you’d want to spend Christmas with  _ me _ .”

_ I had it all planned _ , she thinks. She’d convinced Chas to mind the boys just before midnight. Promised her that Johnny and Moses would be no trouble; they’d be knackered after the fun and the noise and probably be asleep by ten. Noah would be sitting with Samson anyway, playing some game on their phones instead of speaking to each other. Ryan would be the only one who would need minding - he always got a bit loose around alcohol.  _ A true Dingle _ , Zac called him. And then, after Charity snuck Vanessa out of the cottage and into the cold, she’d finally tell her. She’d finally say those words that’ve been sitting on the tip of her tongue for what’s felt like ages now.

Only, Vanessa  _ isn’t _ coming.

“I planned this with Rhona months ago,” Vanessa says tightly.

“ _ Rhona _ ,” Charity repeats.

“Charity,” Vanessa starts.

“Don’t ‘Charity’ me. It’s Christmas Eve and I  _ thought _ you were coming to Lisa and Uncle Zak’s and here I am, standing around waiting for someone who isn’t even coming!”

Vanessa’s voice is hot in her ear. “You never even asked me!”

“I didn’t think I had to, babe!” Charity runs a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down. She thinks about what she sees Johnny do when Moses makes off with a toy he’s been using - three deep breaths, in and out. When she’s done with the third, she curls her hand and pushes it into her pocket, tapping her foot against the mix of ice and snow beneath her. “Okay,” she finally says. “Alright then. So you’ll come late. How long until you’re here?”

Vanessa sighs heavily over the phone. “Charity.”

“No, no.” Charity starts to pace, back and forth and back and forth. “No, you do your thing with Rhona and then hurry over when it’s done. I’ll tell Lis to hold off on making the drinks extra strong, and it’ll be fine.”

“Charity,” Vanessa says again. “I’m sorry, but I’ve promised.”

Charity’s anger twists in her gut. “You’re  _ my _ girlfriend. Not  _ Rhona’s _ .”

“Charity,” Vanessa says sharply. “I thought we were done with this jealousy bit.”

“ _ Jealousy _ .” Charity scoffs. “Right, babe. Because thinking you’d want to spend Christmas with me instead of bloody  _ Rhona _ suddenly makes me jealous, does it?”

Charity can practically hear Vanessa rolling her eyes over the phone. “Yes.” Vanessa’s voice is pinched before it goes flat. “That’s what happening. I’ve decided I can’t be doing with your moods and I’m dumping you. Me and Rhona are running off together with the kids. I’ll send you a postcard, if you’d like.”

Something twists in Charity’s gut at the idea. Vanessa’s joking; she knows it. But there’s still something hot and wicked in the pit of her stomach that builds and builds until the world is tinted a shade of red she’s not seen in ages. It settles in her throat and she feels like she’s choking. She kicks at a ball of snow - something Moses and Noah had rolled together earlier.

“Give over,” Vanessa continues. “It’s only Christmas Eve. We’re spending Christmas together tomorrow, aren’t we?” Her voice softens. “Listen, how about you bring the boys round tonight and we can set Moses up with Johnny and Noah and Ryan on the couch. Tracy’s at me dad’s and Leyla’s gone… somewhere. So it’ll be just us, yeah? And we’ll wake up together on Christmas morning.”

Charity looks back at the cottage and scowls at the sight of Chas and Paddy in the window, one of Paddy’s meaty arms wound tight across Chas’s shoulders. She can hear Sam and Lydia laughing loudly, leaning into one another. Uncle Zac passes another window, pressing a kiss to Lisa’s cheek. Robert lifts a beer bottle and taps it against Aaron’s glass. Cain shifts moodily on the couch as Debbie and Joe sit down next to him, but Moira kisses him and Charity can see his near-permanent scowl thaw.

They’re all inside, loved up, and she’s outside in the cold. Alone.

She’d wanted Vanessa to be with her this year. She wanted to claim the corner of the couch, kicking Cain to the chair, and curl up against Vanessa’s side. She wanted Ryan to make good on his threat to hang a sprig of mistletoe over their heads and get them to kiss, even if he was doing it to make Noah squirm. She wanted everyone to see: she had something  _ good _ , something important. Something that was hers. She had someone in her corner. Someone who supported her unwaveringly. Someone gorgeous, to boot. 

She wanted to show Vanessa off and finally,  _ finally _ , people would see she was worth something; worth someone’s care.

“And so I’ll just spend my night here, alone, while Cain and Moira make animal noises at each other over Kyle’s head.” Charity scoffs. “My idea of a perfect Christmas, that is.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Vanessa says tightly. “One upping Cain, innit?”

_ No _ , a voice in the back of Charity’s mind shouts. But her mouth runs away before her head can catch up. “What else are the perks of dating you? Surely, it’s not for your jumper collection.”

The other end of the phone is quiet and Charity curses under her breath, pressing a fist to the pulsing ache between her eyes.

“Ness,” she starts softly.

“Maybe don’t come round tonight,” Vanessa interrupts. “Better yet, why don’t you go and see if Cain and Moira have any room at theirs for you.” Her voice dips, lower than it had in the pub when Vanessa had pushed her away, demanded to be left alone except to be served. “And when you decide that you want me around because you  _ like _ me and not because you want to use me as an arm piece to make Cain Dingle jealous,  _ then _ you can give me a call.”

“ _ Vanessa _ ,” she tries again.

Vanessa hangs up, the phone clicking loudly in Charity’s ear.

She curses loudly, her shouts echoing into the black sky above her. She forces her phone into her pockets, stomping her heeled boot into the ground in frustration. Someone raps on a window and Charity looks up, catching sight of Noah peering through the glass. She musters up the largest smile she can and holds up a single finger. He nods back at her and dips out of sight as she starts back towards the cottage.

“She’ll be fine by morning.” She’s lying to herself. Vanessa Woodfield holds grudges like a professional, keeping Charity at arm’s length until she’s well and ready to talk to her again. The anger starts to build again, though, eclipsing her panic at Vanessa hanging up.

Vanessa is  _ her _ girlfriend. Vanessa should have talked about Christmas with  _ her _ . Vanessa should want to see  _ her _ .

She won’t go groveling this time. She won’t go making apologies. No matter that it’s Christmas. Charity Dingle plays dead for no one. Certainly not a mouthy, bossy blonde woman who can’t be bothered to know where she’s supposed to be on Christmas Eve. No. No, she’ll wait and let Vanessa come to  _ her _ .

Charity feels the ice under her foot even before she plants it; she knows she’s stepped wrong and there’s no way to stop herself now. Her back leg buckles and her front leg kicks out and then she’s falling, falling, falling.

Her back hits the ice beneath her and the last thing she sees is a faint glow the color of Vanessa’s hair in the windows of Wishing Well. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ever read Dickens?" Cain asks. "Old man with money sees a ghost who shows him the error of his ways?”
> 
> Charity laughs, pressing a hand to the top of her stomach when it starts to ache. “You know, you’ve always been a rubbish comedian, but this may be the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

Charity blinks hard against the pain radiating through her head. The air feels colder than before, like she’s been outside for a bit, and she can see her breath puff out above her. Her body aches all over and she can already feel the bruises blossoming across her shoulder blades.

“Figures,” she mutters. She pushes up onto her elbows, her head spinning for a moment before her eyes focus.

This can’t be right.

Buildings loom above her. They look familiar, like she’s been here before. She recognizes those flats, those lights. She sees a girl in the distance, huddled in a coat against the cold, and she’s sure she’s seen her before, in that same spot.

Charity stands on shaky legs, her lungs aching as she breathes in an icy airful. This _can’t_ be right. More shapes start to appear - a familiar stoop, a familiar alleyway. There’s a bin a few paces away with graffiti spray painted on the side of it - a phrase she thinks she remembers.

Another girl steps out into the glow of a streetlamp and Charity nearly falls over at the sight of her.

Teenage-her is thin, her hair hanging around her face as a curtain against the cold. She remembers that coat and those shoes; the holes in both of them. Teenage-her shivers, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders.

A hot cloud curls around her ear as someone speaks into it. “Forgot about this, did you?”

Charity turns quickly, yelping at Cain hovering behind her.  She shoves at his shoulders, surprised at the solid feel of him beneath his hands. She fists the collar of his jacket, shaking him. “You-”

“1990,” Cain continues. “Just about to turn fourteen next month.” He looks up, meeting her eyes. “You remember, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, her hand dropping from his jacket. “This is…”

She stops as a car pulls up, cutting its headlights as it gets closer to where she - teenage-her - is standing. Charity can feel her throat closing. She knows that car. She knows what the steering wheel feels like under her hands. She knows how the cracked leather feels against her legs. A fear starts to creep up her spine and she watches helplessly as teenage-her gets beckoned into the worst part of her life.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” a voice from the car calls out. It rolls under a streetlamp and that fear rages and burns as Charity sees the man in the driver’s seat.

If there’s one thing that’s not changed about Mark Bails, it’s his eyes. Charity remembers how she used to think they were lovely, so clear and blue. Like the beaches in the pictures she saw of the places she wished she could visit. Everything had changed later on, when those blue eyes turned to ice. But at first, when Mark was nice and caring - when he offered her warmth and food - his eyes made her feel safe.

_Vanessa’s eyes are blue_ , she thinks. But always soft; never like the icy cold feeling Bails left her with.

She turns back to Cain. “Is this some kind of joke?” Her eyes widen. “Am I _dead_?”

Cain’s mouth twists up in that way she used to find attractive. It’s what got her in his bed the first time - dark eyes and that perpetual scowl that sometimes dimmed just to a smirk. Now it’s infuriating.

“Not quite.” He shrugs a shoulder. “You read Dickens?”

Charity stares at him, blinking slowly.

“That Christmas special your Dad used to watch each year,” Cain tries. “Old man with money sees a ghost who shows him the error of his ways?”

Charity laughs, pressing a hand to the top of her stomach when it starts to ache. “You know, you’ve always been a rubbish comedian, but this may be the _worst_ joke you’ve ever told.”

Cain stares at her until the laugh dies in her throat. “Does it look like I’m joking?” He points to the car behind her, idling as Bails leans out of the window, talking to teenage-her. “There’s a whole speech I’ve got to give, if you think you can manage.”

“ _You’re_ the first one, then?” Charity shakes her head. “I truly am dead, aren’t I.”

“You’ll be haunted by three Spirits,” Cain says, ignoring her. His voice is flat, his eyes dimmed.

“Haunted. By you? Too right I am,” she mutters.

“One, to show you Christmas pasts.” He nods like he’s checking items off a list. The next, to show you the present. And the last to show you Christmases coming.”

“A picture show, then.” Charity throws her arms up in the air, rolling her eyes. “Will there be intermission? Popcorn?”

Cain scowls at her. “Without this, you’ll go down the same path you always do, Charity. Pushing people away, breaking them into pieces.”

Charity feels something in her chest harden. “I’ve only broken people who tried to break me first.”

“And where’d that get you?” Cain’s eyes narrow. “On your back on the ice and no one coming to look for you. Vanessa won’t, not after what that you’ve done. You pushed her, maybe too far now. And Noah’ll barely notice you’ve gone. You’re always slipping out to do what you want, leaving him behind. Debbie’ll think nothing of it. Ryan might. He’s new, isn’t he? But everyone will tell him it’s what to expect.” He pauses. “Charity Dingle isn’t in the habit of wanting to spend time with her family unless it suits her.”

“With a family like the Dingles, did ya think I want to?” Charity spits back. “A family who barely notices me unless it suits _them_?”

Cain doesn’t flinch. “After you meet the last Spirit, the Ghost of Christmas Future, you’ll be faced with a choice. Change, or don’t. It’s up to you.” He leans in a little, whispering hotly in her ear. “My money’s on you not. You never have and I don’t reckon this’ll help it.”

A car door opens behind her and Charity turns quickly, watching Bails step out of the car.

“No, no, no,” she starts to say. “No, don’t get in. Don’t.”

“She can’t hear you.” Cain shrugs. “No one can.”

“Why don’t we get you something warm to eat, yeah?” Bails tips his head towards the running car. “Maybe a place to stay for the night.”

Teenage-her eyes Bails warily, but another gust of window slips under her thin coat and she nods. “Okay,” she says, her voice a hot rasp in the cool air. “For the night.”

“She can’t get in the car.” Charity turns, eyes wide. “Cain, she can’t get in the car.”

“She will,” Cain says softly. “Because you did.”

“No,” Charity repeats. She storms forward, coming to a hard stop as she gets closer to Bails. His eyes, they get her each time. Fear and sick build in her stomach again, muting against the ache in her chest as she catches sight of teenage-her, sitting in the front seat of his car, hands up to catch the heat from the vent.

“That’s a good girl,” Bails says softly. “That’s a good, good girl.”

Charity pulls an arm back, her hand clenched into a fist. She swings at him but he fades under her punch, disappearing into a million little pieces. The world spins in colors and shapes she can’t quite make out. Her head aches and when the world settles, she has to blink to clear the stars from her eyes.

“And the Christmas after that,” Cain says, swinging his arm back to show her.

Charity stumbles and catches herself. The room is foggy with cigarette smoke, empty bottles littering the floor. She can scarcely see herself, waddling carefully between two bodies in a doorway. Teenage-her is holding her breath, her cheeks puffed out. It’s not until she gets closer that she can see the way her shirt hangs off her shoulders, how thin her collar bones are.

People drift in and out around teenage-her, stumbling and sluggish. She slips past their hands, reaching for her, and pauses at the bottom of the stairs.

“Cain, I want to go,” she demands, her voice breaking in the spaces between the words. “I want to go now.”

“You’ve got to see this part,” Cain says.

She doesn’t. She knows what happens. The first sign of worry, low in her gut. She watches teenage-her pause, eyes narrowed in confusion. The baby was always kicking, keeping her up well into the night  She presses a hand to her stomach and Charity finds herself doing the same, the weight heavy on her flat stomach.

“At first, I thought he was sleeping,” she whispers. “I was young. Too young to know what it meant that he wasn’t. I was just… grateful. For the rest.” Her eyes burn. “I shouldn’t have been so relieved. I should’ve been worried. I should’ve-”

Teenage-her smiles, relief in her eyes. “Finally, some peace and quiet,” she murmurs. She rubs at the swell of her stomach, easing herself down onto the stairs behind her. Smoke billows around her but teenage-her doesn’t care. Charity hadn’t cared.

She should have cared. Maybe Ryan… Maybe everything would have been different.

“This was my last Christmas with him,” Charity continues quietly. “For 27 years I thought it was the last one ever.”

“And now he’s back,” Cain says. He nods towards teenage-her, leaning back against a step. “For your second Christmas together.

“Looking for a spot of charity, Charity?” a shadow slurs. It laughs at its own joke. A hand drifts towards her, clutching a cheap bottle of booze.

Charity clenches her fist, pressing it tight against her thigh. “No, no,” she whispers. It’s no use. She knows she takes the bottle. She knows she takes a small sip - small enough just to whet her appetite. Not enough to settle in her stomach. _Not enough to do any harm_ , she’d reasoned.

Teenage-her grins up at the shadow. “Cheers,” she tells it, taking the smallest of mouthfuls.

It had tasted like lighter fluid but Charity had felt _normal_ for a moment, like herself.

Ryan hadn’t kicked again and nothing was normal after that.

The world slips again, everything fading into dust that she can’t quite grasp. Cain is solid beside her for a moment longer, the look on his face worse than that smirk, that infuriating indifference. It’s pity in his eyes, sympathy in his smile. It’s foreign on his face and she hates.

She falls to her knees, pain blossoming up into her thighs and hips. The ground is cold and hard and she hisses as her palms find sharp ice beneath them. She closes her eyes and gasps for air that doesn’t quite fill her lungs.

“Mum,” Noah says from above. “Get up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity spins, finding Noah, the wrong one, right behind her. “I’m right outside.”
> 
> The wrong Noah nods. “Just on the ice, yeah.”
> 
> “But they’re not looking for me.” Charity can feel her skin crawling.

“ _ Noah _ ,” she breathes, pushing to her feet. “Oh, thank God.” She grabs for him, pulling him and hugging him tightly. He’s stiff in her arms for a moment before he hugs back, patting her back gently. She laughs loudly. “I’ve just had the worst… nightmare, I guess.”

She pulls back, holding him at arm’s length and laughs again. “Knocked my head hard enough I went back 27 years. Doesn’t explain Cain, though,” she mumbles absently. She shakes the thought from her head. “I’m just so glad to see you, babe.”

Noah wiggles out of her grasp. “Mum.” He’s impatient, eyes darting back to the cottage behind him. “We’re going to miss it.”

Charity frowns. “Miss what?” She tips her head to one side, studying him. “Is that the jumper you had on earlier?”

Noah smirks, one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Ghosts can wear whatever they want.”

“Ghosts,” she repeats quietly.

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present, me.” Noah nods. “Don’t you remember reading this to me?”

Charity shakes her head. “No. I never. I…”

“You did,” Noah insists. 

Charity frowns before she remembers. She  _ did _ read him this story, when he was younger and still fit into her side under her arm. Back when he all he wanted for Christmas was a water pistol and her attention.

“I still want it,” Noah says beside her.

Charity jumps. “I didn’t say-”

“Ghost,” Noah repeats. He taps the side of his head. “I can hear it, can’t I.” He smiles and holds out his hand. “Let’s go before we miss everything.” He doesn’t wait for her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards Wishing Well. There’s a moment where she thinks he hesitates before he tugs harder, hauling her through the wood of the front door of Wishing Well.

Her hands go over her body, anxiously feeling for cuts and bruises. 

Noah rolls his eyes and steps further into the room.

Noah,  _ her Noah _ , is sitting on the couch, phone balanced on his knee as he drinks from the glass in his hand.

Charity’s scream catches in the hollow of her throat as she rushes towards him and grabs him by the collar. He’s wearing that hideous jumper Vanessa got him as a joke, the one he promised he’d wear after Vanessa had pushed her bottom lip out and pouted for close to an hour. 

Her hands go through him and he doesn’t look up.

“No, no, no,” she pants. “No, Noah. Look at me, babe.”

Her Noah pauses for a moment, his nose wrinkled, before he shakes his head just a bit and sets his glass down on the floor at his feet. 

Chas walks past her, just close enough that their shoulders might brush. 

“Chas,” Charity breathes. 

Chas keeps walking, through her, stepping around Paddy and Marlon and squeezing between Aaron and Robert.

“Chas!” Charity follows after her, melting through Paddy and Marlon easily, walking right through Robert. “Chas, wait!”

Chas pauses and looks back.

“Yes, babe. Yes!” Charity presses forward. “Babe, listen, I-”

Chas picks up a glass and sniffs it, mouth souring at the smell of alcohol in it. She carries it to the sink and dumps it.

Charity spins, the room a blur. She spots Moses in the mix in the Christmas jumper Vanessa got him, the one that matches Johnny’s, and she charges at him, trying to scoop him up and onto her hip. She crashes through him, half of her disappearing through the wall before she rights herself.

“Mum,” Noah, the one in the wrong jumper, says. “Cain’s told you, they can’t hear you.”

“Moses,” she says anyway, kneeling down in front of him. “Moses, I’m right here.”

Moses looks up, right through her, and stands. Her whole body aches as he toddles into her and past her, digging his chin on Noah’s knee. “Johnny?” he asks.

Noah looks for a moment like he’ll push Moses away, but he reaches for him instead, picking him up and putting him on his lap. “He’s coming, I think. Mum is probably talking to Vanessa now. Probably can’t find Johnny’s jumper.” He leans in, his voice for Moses only. “He did a well job hiding it, didn’t he?”

Moses giggles and settles back against Noah’s chest.

Charity spins, finding Noah, the wrong one, right behind her. “I’m right outside.”

The wrong Noah nods. “Just on the ice, yeah.”

“But they’re not looking for me.” Charity can feel her skin crawling. She knows they can’t hear her but she wants to stand in the middle of the room and set it on fire, just to get them to pay attention.

The wrong Noah shrugs a shoulder carelessly. Something churns in Charity’s gut; he looks just like  _ her _ Noah, doing that.

“You, dipping out of a family function?” His mouth twists in a smile. “For  _ Vanessa _ ?”

“It’s not news,” she finishes quietly.

“Where’d Charity get up to?” Lisa asks loudly. 

Charity claps her hands. “ _ Yes _ , Lisa. Yes. Ask. Ask again.”

Lisa looks around and claps her hands once, the noise dimming to a dull roar. “I said, where’s our Charity?”

Chas nods towards the window, to the dark stretch of nothing past it.

Cain snorts. “Got a call from her girlfriend, didn’t she. Probably fighting about something or another.”

Moira swats him on the shoulder. “Oi. Be nice.”

Cain rolls his eyes. “I’m not the only one surprised they’ve lasted this long. Charity is no picnic.”

“Vanessa must have the patience of a saint,” Robert adds, sipping from his can of beer. 

“Wouldn’t they be interested to know about her temper,” Charity mumbles to the wrong Noah. She shoulders him gently, his body solid against hers. “ _ I’ve _ got the patience, I do.”

She looks around expectantly, waiting for someone to disagree with Cain; for someone to step up and defend her. She looks at Debbie - she leans into Joe’s arms and pulls them tighter around her waist, silent. She looks at Noah but he only shifts, showing Moses a video on his phone. She looks at each one of them and sees nothing, each of them murmuring in agreement and going back to their drinks. The conversation rises again and Charity feels her stomach sink. 

“Charity’ll muck it up,” Cain continues, droplets of beer spitting from the can in his hand. “It’s what she’s good at. Can only hope she doesn’t ruin Vanessa too much when she does.”

“I like ‘Ness,” Moses says loudly. He beams at Cain.

Charity smiles softly and it eases the ache a bit. Moses has taken to Vanessa like a lucky coin, always wanting to be under her foot. Charity’s taken to dropping him of at the vets lately, swapping one toddler for the other so that Moses can pet the animals and Johnny can spend time coloring without rabbit droppings ruining his pictures. 

The wrong Noah touches her arm again. “Come on, then.”

“They don’t…” Charity trails off, reaching for Noah’s hand. It’s too cold in her own. “None of them said I was…”

The wrong Noah smiles softly. “Did you think they would?”

“I thought…” Charity shakes her head.

“Come on, Mum,” the wrong Noah says again, impatience in his voice. 

Charity blinks rapidly, trying to keep up as she hears what the wrong Noah’s saying. “Come where?” 

She’s standing outside of Smithy Cottage all of the sudden, looking in through the window, her breath not fogging the glass. Her stomach twists - first at the sight of Vanessa, tears on her cheeks, and then with jealousy at the way Rhona is sitting close, Vanessa’s feet under Rhona’s legs. She pushes forward, through the wall of the cottage and into the living, coming to a hard stop in front of the couch.

“She’ll pull her head out of her backside,” Rhona is saying. “Just you wait, by the end of the night, she’ll be groveling at your door.”

“No, I won’t,” Charity whispers.

“No, she won’t.” Vanessa shakes her head and sniffs, wiping at her nose. “She’s not massive on apologies.” 

Rhona frowns. “It was a simple mixup, ‘Ness. She’ll see that.”

Vanessa sighs, shifting a bit on the couch. She’s close enough to touch but Charity has never felt so far away. “I should have known she’d want me to-”

“How?” Rhona asks, cutting Vanessa off.

Charity scowls at her. “Shut it,  _ Rhona _ .” She pauses, her chest aching as she realizes: she  _ is _ jealous. Not just of Rhona, necessarily, but of anyone who gets to share Vanessa’s time and space. 

“It’s like you said, she never asked you. We planned this ages ago, didn’t we?” Rhona shifts a bit, Vanessa’s body dipping into hers. “If she didn’t ask you about going, then-” Rhona throws her hands up in the air. “Well, that’s her fault, then.”

Charity looks back at the wrong Noah, mouth pursed in disgust. “See? Do you see?”

The wrong Noah says nothing.

Vanessa sighs. “Sometimes I…” She laughs bitterly and wipes at her eyes.

Charity drops to her knees in front of the couch, hands shaking. She wants to touch Vanessa but she knows it would do nothing; knows Vanessa can’t hear here. “You what?” she breathes.

“You what?” Rhona prompts gently.

“Sometimes, I wonder when she’s going to realize I’m really not what she’s after.” Vanessa smiles tightly. “When she figures out I’m not adventurous or going to come into a load of money from some far off relative. Again,” she adds, eyes cutting to Rhona. Her voice drops a bit lower. “When she realizes that maybe she does want to one-up Cain and I’m not the person who can.”

“No,” Charity breathes. “No, no.”

“I’m Vanessa Woodfield. Local  _ vet _ .” Vanessa shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve never nicked a car or been banged up. I’m hardly adventurous. I’m not Cain bloody Dingle.”

“You were suspended from your job,” Rhona points out.

Vanessa sighs heavily. “Right. So I’m just Vanessa Woodfield, then. Local,  _ jobless _ vet.”

“That’s not all you are,” Charity breathes.

“That’s not all you are,” Rhona says.

Vanessa eyes Rhona warily. “Isn’t it?”

Rhona pushes Vanessa’s hair out of her face and Charity’s lungs burn as she screams loudly. The sound doesn’t echo against the walls but Charity can feel it in her chest.

“They can’t hear you,” the wrong Noah says. “They can’t see you.”

“Yes, I know the story,” she snaps.

“She knows who you are, Vanessa.” Rhona smiles softly. “And she likes you in spite of all it.” Vanessa doesn’t laugh and Rhona leans in closer. “She knows how much you like her.”

Vanessa sniffles again. “ _ Love _ her,” she whispers. “I love her.”

The pressure in Charity’s chest pops and blooms into something warm and clear. 

Vanessa loves her. Vanessa  _ loves _ her.

She presses closer, Vanessa’s eyes wide and bright and blue and  _ honest _ .

“Vanessa,” she breathes. “I love-”

The whole drops out from other and the world starts to spin in colors she’s not sure she’s seen before. She’s pulled through the door of Smitty Cottage and down the lane, twisting and turning her until she’s on her knees, dry-heaving through the seat of Vanessa’s hideous armchair.

She stands slowly, relief in her chest as she looks around at the yellow walls and the tacky decorations. She turns in a circle before she stops sharply and comes face to face with Moira.

Charity screams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s footsteps behind her and Charity steadies herself before she turns to face them. She’s not steady enough for the woman that comes from the back door, slipping out of her coat and hanging it on the rack near the stairs.
> 
> _Vanessa_ , Charity thinks.
> 
> Older, too, like Noah. Graying as well. But her eyes are the same.

Charity screams and stops in the same breath, rubbing at her throat. “Of course it’s  _ you _ .” She stands shakily, her knees aching under her weight.

Moira says nothing. 

Charity waves a hand and smiles crookedly. “Ghost of Christmas Future. Right. No talking. I think I like this version of you best.”

“Noah, love,” Vanessa calls out from the back of the house. “Can you shut the telly off?”

Charity gets her footing well enough to turn, just as her knees buckle again. “ _ Noah _ ,” she gasps.

He’s Noah, but he’s not. Older now, closer to his thirties than his twenties, if she were to guess. There’s a light stubble on his chin and gray at his temples but he’s still blond at the tips. He swans around the room with a grace Charity remembers seeing in Joe. He’s bouncing a baby in his arms, the way he used to carry Johnny and Moses. There’s a song he’s singing - only, Charity can’t hear it well enough to know it.

There’s footsteps behind her and Charity steadies herself before she turns to face them. She’s not steady enough for the woman that comes from the back door, slipping out of her coat and hanging it on the rack near the stairs.

_ Vanessa _ , Charity thinks.

Older, too, like Noah. Graying as well. But her eyes are the same - blue and bright - and there’s laugh lines near them. She walks through Charity, reaching for the baby Noah is still holding, and Charity feels breathless. 

“Hello, my darling,” Vanessa coos at the baby. A small thing with a tuft of soft blonde hair. It has Noah’s button nose and a frown Charity recognizes all too well as the baby is passed over. It settles in Vanessa’s arms and the frown fades as it presses its face to Vanessa’s jumper. “How are we today, Master Abraham?”

Noah scoffs. “Don’t let him fool you. Abe was right trouble on the train, wasn’t he.”

“Abe Dingle.” Charity laughs, turning to the silent Moira behind her. “ _ Abe _ Dingle. Have we run out of the normal-sounding names, then?”

“Fussy,” Noah admits. “Didn’t half like the ride into the village.”

Vanessa nods sharply, lifting Abe up to kiss his forehead. The baby kicks a small foot out and Vanessa laughs.

Charity watches in awe. Her little boy, grown with one of his own. And he’s here, in Tug Ghyll, smiling at Vanessa as brightly as she’s ever seen him smile at anything. Abe gurgles in Vanessa’s arms and Noah reaches out, letting the boy grab his finger and squeeze.

Charity’s chest squeezes in time.

“Right. Shall we get this one something to eat?” Vanessa doesn’t wait for an answer, bounding Abe in her arms as she moves back towards the refrigerator. “Is Fiona stopping?”

Noah picks a bottle out of a bag on the floor by the couch, shaking it gently. “She’s at her parents in Hotten, first. Said not to wait on her, but she’ll be here before the night is up.”

Vanessa pinches Noah’s cheek gently. Charity watches in awe as he leans into it instead of away. “My boy,” Vanessa sys, affection in her eyes and her words. “Grown and giving me grandchildren.”

Charity turns to Moira, her earlier relief surging back. She breathes properly, her body relaxing. “So, we make up, then.” She presses a hand against her chest and smiles when she feels her heart beat slow and steady. “Good. Good. Everything is fine, then.”

Vanessa puts a pot of water on, nodding at Noah to put the bottle in the water to warm it.

Charity breathes out again, eyes closing.  _ Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is- _

“Have you stopped to see your mum?” Vanessa asks.

Her heartbeat stutters, her throat closing. A dark looks crosses Noah’s face and settles at the corners of his mouth, turned down in anger.

“Noah,” Vanessa sighs.

“I’ve not and I won’t,” Noah says firmly.

Charity looks at the silent Moira. “I’m… I’m  _ dead _ ?”

Moira says nothing.

“Noah,” Vanessa says again, gentle this time. She gestures for the bottle and tips it into Abe’s mouth carefully. “You ought to see her, you know.”

Some of the anger fades from Noah’s eyes, but the darkness lingers. “I can’t. Not… not yet.”

“I’m dead,” Charity repeats, sinking to the floor. “I’m well and truly dead, aren’t I?” She laughs, the noise catching in her throat. “I’ve died, not even seventy years old.” Her eyes widen. “Not even  _ sixty _ .”

One of Vanessa’s hand settles on Noah’s shoulder, pressing gently. “Noah.”

“I’m just not ready,” Noah says. Charity expects him to tear away from Vanessa’s hold - he was always a bit shorter with her than anyone else, his fuse a bit easier to light. Instead, he leans into it again, giving her a quick smile. He reaches up and squeezes her wrist carefully. 

“There’s no rush, Noah.”

Noah nods. “Are you…” He tries again. “Will you see her?”

Vanessa looks away quickly and Charity narrows her eyes, following Vanessa as she moves in circles. She sways side to side, rocking Abe.

“Vanessa,” Charity says, standing up quickly. “Vanessa, you  _ have _ to go visit me. I can’t… I can’t be alone. Not like that. Not…”

_ Alone _ . It’s been her biggest fear ever since she learned the word. 

Vanessa takes a deep breath. “No, Noah.” Her voice is firm. “I won’t.”

Charity swallows hard. “Vanessa.”

“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t,” Vanessa finishes. “Tomorrow, maybe?”

Noah shrugs. “If I can find her.”

“Find me?” Charity looks at the silent Moira. “Where am I?”

“Noah,” Vanessa starts.

“Where am I?” Charity grabs at the shirt Moira is wearing, tugging hard. “Where am I?”

“She’s off with whoever, doing whatever.” Noah picks the bottle out of the water and tests it on his wrist. He’s not looking at Vanessa now, avoiding her scolding gaze.

Charity looks wildly around the room. “I’m  _ what _ ?”

“Noah,” Vanessa says sharply.

Noah huffs. “Fine. She’s with whats-his-name. Luke or Logan or summat.”

“The banker?” Vanessa asks, forehead knitted. She’s smiling a bit, something plastered on for the sake of Noah’s benefit.

Noah shrugs. “I guess.”

Vanessa’s smile dims, just for a moment. “Oh, you like  _ Liam _ ,” she says, her attention back on the baby in her arms. 

Noah waits until she looks up again before he speaks, eyes steeled. “I’ve only ever had one second parent.” His voice is as hard as his eyes. “I’ve only ever wanted one second parent. And it’s you.”

Charity feels the air fading from her lungs. “I’m married to someone else. No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

Vanessa sighs. “Noah, I love you, but your mom and I… Well, weren’t even together that long. Certainly not long enough to be married.” She looks out the front window, her eyes glazed and unfocused as she stares at the Christmas lights on the tree in front of the shop across the road. “It’s been about ten years...” she says quietly, to herself.

“Wait, wait.” Charity presses her palm to her forehead. She shakes her head. “Stop. Stop this.”

Vanessa is still giving Noah that sad, soft smile. “I’m grateful for you, though. You know that, don’t you? Grateful that you’ve let me stay here, in your life.” She smiles down at Abe, a real smile that Charity recognizes. “You’ve given me so much, Noah. A family, a grandchild. A life full of laughter.”

Charity blinks hard, trying to catch up. “A life without me?” She looks back at the silent Moira but she’s pointed back towards Vanessa and Noah, Abe between them.

“You never stopped loving me,” Noah reminds her. He pauses, wringing his hands in the bottom of his jumper. “Did you stop loving her?”

Vanessa pauses.

“No,” Charity says, stepping forward. “No, you didn’t. Say you didn’t.  _ Please _ , say you didn’t.”

“I’m not sure, Noah.” Vanessa looks towards the mantle, at a frame there. “It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”

“I do!” Charity shouts. “I do love you.” She lunges forward, hands trying to curl around Vanessa’s shoulders. She stumbles through her, turning quickly and moving back in front of her. “Look at me. Look at me, Vanessa. Just look at me!” She picks up a picture frame - Noah and Johnny and Moses grinning back up at her, Tug Ghyll right behind them. Her hand curls around the cool metal and she throws it, hard, searching Vanessa’s face for any kind of sign.

She looks back at the end table and the picture is still there in one piece.

“Your mum never...” Vanessa trails off. “Things changed, after that first Christmas. She pushed and kept me at arm’s length. I tried, Noah. I truly did. But…” Vanessa sighs. “Nothing was the same.”

“She should have apologised,” Noah spits.

“So should I.” Vanessa passes Abe back to Noah. “But by the time I was going to, she’d…”

“That bloke with the fancy garage in Robblesfield, yeah.” Noah rolls his eyes. “He went down a few years ago. Nicking cars, selling parts and all.”

“No,” Charity breathes. “There was no mechanic in Robblesfield. I wouldn’t- Not to  _ you _ , Vanessa. I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Vanessa exhales, her whole body rising and falling.

Charity grabs at Moira again. “I don’t want anyone but her. Tell her that.” The silent Moira blinks at her. “Tell her that! Speak up, you sodding cow. Say  _ something _ .”

“I loved her once.” Vanessa’s looking away again, to something Charity can’t see. “A part of me still might, I suppose. I thought she…” She shakes her head, coming back to herself. “It’s no matter now, is it? What’s past is past and she’s moved on, hasn’t she. Suppose I should do the same.”

“No, no, no,” Charity pleads.

Vanessa picks a picture off the mantle, turning it over in her hands. “Where’s Moses?”

Noah stares at her for a moment longer before Abe’s hand finds the light stubble on his chin. “I dropped him at Dale View with Tracy and Ross They’ll be over soon.”

“And Johnny has just nipped to the cash and carry quickly,” Vanessa says absently as she traces a finger over the glass of the frame. “Rhona, Pete, and Leo should be here shortly. Ryan, too.”

“And then we’ll have the whole family ‘round the table,” Noah finishes. He grins widely. “Did you hear that, Abe? The whole family.” 

“Not everyone!” Charity shouts, smacking her chest with a flat hand. “What about  _ me _ ?”

“The whole family,” Vanessa echoes, her smile matching his.

Charity grabs Moira by the shoulders and screams in her face. “But what about me?”

Vanessa’s front door bangs open. Charity lets go of the silent Moira and turns. Ross, Tracy, Pete, and Rhona come in, arms laden down, a teenage Moses and Leo trailing after them. Ryan is right behind them, holding up a rucksack of desserts he picked up in town.

“Where’s that nephew of mine?” Tracy calls, immediately reaching for Abe. She winks at Noah and rubs his cheek fondly. “Hello to you, too.”

Noah rolls his eyes, taking the handshake Ross offers him. “I know you’re only here for Abe. And Fiona.”

Leo hugs Vanessa tightly and Moses presses a quick kiss to the top of her head, already towering over her. “Tell Dad I can stay here on Boxing Day. Me and Johnny and Leo.”

Vanessa smiles, the picture frame still in her hands. “Of course you can, my darling.”

“See, Dad?” Moses points at Vanessa. “Mum says it’s fine.”

“What about me?” Charity asks again, her voice softer.  _ The whole family _ , she thinks.  _ A whole family without me _ .

Rhona presses in close against Vanessa’s side, nudging her as Pete, Ross, Ryan, Leo, Moses, and Johnny make themselves comfortable on the couch and chair, already bickering over what to watch on the telly. Vanessa laughs and Rhona moves around her to the sink, putting down a pot of flowers.

“I want to go,” she says to the silent Moira. “Please. Let me go.”

Moira reaches for her, her hand cold against Charity’s shoulder. 

“I want to go,” Charity says again, her voice heavy with the tears she won’t let herself cry. “I don’t want to stay, please.”

Vanessa puts the picture back on the mantle and wipes at the skin under her eyes.

“I can’t stay here,” Charity whispers. “I can’t… Please, let’s go.”

Moira nods at her and the last thing Charity sees is Vanessa in the middle of the living room, her family bustling around her, and the empty space where Charity wants herself to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can’t call about this. She needs to see Vanessa; put her hands on Vanessa’s shoulders; put her lips against Vanessa’s and know she’s still there. Her phone goes back into her pocket and she changes direction, walking unsteadily towards Wishing Well.
> 
> There’s just one more thing she needs.

The sky is black above her, the air cold in her lungs. The stars twinkle softly, the light from the windows in the distance nearly blinding.

Vanessa had a family,  _ her _ family, around the table. Happy. 

Without her. 

She sits up slowly, rubbing at the back of her head. It aches and pulses and she has to lean forward to ward off the nausea that swells in her stomach. She looks up after a minute, eyes scanning the darkness to find the next one, the next Ghost to show her the sad, lonely life she’s leading.

_ But _ , she thinks.  _ Three Ghosts. Three of them. Cain and Noah and Moira _ …

“No,” she breathes. “That can’t be it.” She looks around, still searching for a Ghost that doesn’t exist. “That can’t be all I have. That’s…” Her eyes start to burn and she tries to fight off the tears forming. “That can’t be all I am. Not after everything.”

She stands too quickly, nearly slipping on the ice again. “That won’t be all I am!” she shouts at the inky darkness.

_ Vanessa _ is her next thought.  _ I need to get to Vanessa _ . Wishing Well looms ahead of her, windows lit and the soft sounds of a terrible Christmas song drifting towards her. She takes slow, uneven steps across the ice, not breathing until she hears crunching gravel beneath her feet.

Charity reaches into her pocket, pulling up Vanessa’s contact information. Her finger hovers over her name. She needs to apologize. She needs to do it  _ tonight _ . If she doesn’t… She shudders thinking about it - her whole family content without her there. She hits the call button and listens to it ring once before she hangs up, already panting heavily.

She can’t  _ call _ about this. She needs to see Vanessa; put her hands on Vanessa’s shoulders; put her lips against Vanessa’s and know she’s still there. Her phone goes back into her pocket and she changes direction, walking unsteadily towards Wishing Well.

There’s just one more thing she needs.

Everyone looks up as she pushes through the front door of Wishing Well. She looks around wildly, finding Noah and Moses on the couch together, curled into one another. Noah, in his hideous jumper, stares up at her with a frown on his face.

Charity crosses the room and pulls him to his feet, Moses teetering between them before Charity steadies him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into their necks. “I’m so sorry. I love you, babe. I love you so, so much.” She pulls back a bit, looking into Noah’s face. “I don’t say it enough. I don’t put you first. And that’s going to change. Now. Right this second, yeah? Both of you.”

“Mum,” Noah whines, trying to wiggle out of her grasp. “You’re embarrassing me.”

She pulls him back again, kissing the side of his face. “I’ll always need you. I swear it.”

Noah’s eyes narrow. “What’s happened to you?”

Charity lifts Moses up a bit higher, pressing kisses all over his face. He giggles and twists in her arms, hiding his face behind his hands. “So, so much, babe. And…” His face is smooth under her palm. She can see him in ten years, that light stubble and a baby in his arms. Her baby, a parent himself. “And I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You’ve said.” Noah speaks slowly, still staring at her.

Charity curls her arm around his shoulders, turning to face Cain. “You’re wrong, by the way. I’m not going to ‘muck it up’ with Vanessa. I…” She pushes her shoulders back, standing up straighter. “I love her, Vanessa.” She eases Noah forward, towards the door. “And I’m leaving to go tell her that.”

Ryan stands, following after her. “Wait for me, would you?”

Charity looks at Lisa but Lisa shakes her head, eyes glistening, and points to the door. “Go get her, love.”

“Thanks, Lis,” Charity whispers. 

She’s in the car before she can think too much about it; before she can talk herself out of it. Ryan chatters on in the seat next to her, talking to Noah about one thing or the other as Moses babbles happily in the back. She takes corners too quickly and brakes too sharply but her hands start to sweat the closer she gets to the center of the village. The car comes to a skidding stop outside of Smitty’s Cottage and she hesitates, looking at the lit windows.

“Mum,” Noah says softly after a minute. “Are we going in?”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“She does.” Noah’s voice is sure.

Ryan nods. “She does.”

Charity laughs, somewhere between a cough and cry. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

Noah leans forward far enough that she can see his eyes. “I’m not  _ that _ daft, Mum.”

She runs a hand through his hair. “No, you’re not, are you?”

The heavy wooden door is rough under her hand as she knocks. She nearly turns back, the air slowly leaking out of lungs, but Noah’s hand is steady against her back, Moses is wrapped tightly around her leg, and Ryan leans heavily against her shoulder.

Her boys, grounding her.

The door opens widely, Rhona blinking out into the darkness at her.

“I need to see her,” Charity says in a rush. “Please, I know she’s-”

Rhona holds up a hand, the corner of her mouth lifting just so. “Ness,” she calls into the house. “It’s for you.”

Noah nudges her into the house, stomping past her with Moses and Ryan hot on his heels. Noah heads for the kitchen with Ryan, Rhona right behind them, and Moses skips over to Johnny and Leo, taking the first dinosaur that’s offered to him. 

“Charity,” Vanessa breathes out as she sits up. 

It sends the air back into Charity’s lungs. 

Vanessa starts talking but Charity doesn’t hear her. She can only look, imagining Vanessa in ten years with gray in her hair and the same eyes. She can imagine waking up next to her, sitting at the table on Christmas Eve as their family packs Tug Ghyll to the rafters. She can imagine rocking Abe in her arms while Vanessa watches them with a smile on her face. She can imagine years and years of that; of family teas and weddings and birthdays spent together. She can imagine it all.

And now, now she might get to live it.

“-and I never meant-”

“I’m sorry, babe,” Charity interrupts. She steps closer, a feeling that she’s done this before washing over her.  “I shouldn’t have said that. I swear, I’m just-” She cuts herself off, pausing before she can rattle off the excuses on the tip of her tongue. “I was wrong,” she admits. “I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Vanessa sighs softly and Charity knows it was the right thing to say. 

“Well, if your offer still stands, I want to come,” Vanessa says, pushing up off the couch. “And Rhona will bring Leo, so Marlon can wish him a Merry Christmas, too.”

Charity’s eyes water and swell until tears are running silently down her face, dropping off her cheeks. Vanessa frowns, her hand against Charity’s cheek. “No,” she says. “It’s not important.”

She thinks back to standing outside of Wishing Well, watching Cain and Moira, Chas and Paddy, Debbie and Joe. She’d wanted that, to show Vanessa off to everyone, to prove that what she had was better than anything they thought they had. But it’s not important.  _ This is _ , Charity thinks.  _ Vanessa is _ .  _ Her family is. _

“I want you. Only you.” Charity leans her forehead against Vanessa’s, her hands at Vanessa’s sides. “You’re enough. I don’t care if you’re not nicking cars or on the run from coppers. I want you, just the way you are.”

Vanessa frowns. “How did you-”

“You make me… You make me better. A bit annoying, if I’m honest.” Charity squeezes Vanessa’s waist gently. “But so much better. I don’t want Cain or-”

“I know,” Vanessa says quickly. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“For the record?” Charity tugs gently at the hem of Vanessa’s jumper. “I do love your jumper collection.”

“I knew it,” Vanessa whispers. “You can’t unsay that, Charity Dingle.”

“I love  _ you _ , too.”

Vanessa’s eyes widen slightly, her lips parting. She stares at Charity for a long moment before she inhales sharply. “You can’t unsay that, either.”

“Don’t plan on it,” Charity whispers. 

“Charity…” Vanessa licks her bottom lip.

“I’ve had a shit night, babe.” Charity shakes her head. “I slipped on the ice and-”

“You what?” Vanessa asks loudly, hands reaching to feel the back of Charity’s head.

Charity hisses when she hits a newly-formed bruise and Vanessa pulls back sheepishly. “I had this dream, yeah? Or… A nightmare, maybe. There was Cain and Noah and bloody Moira and I…” She inhales and exhales slowly. “A lot happened. But the one constant in each part of it was you. I kept seeing your eyes and you.”

“How hard did you fall?” Vanessa asks, gently trying to feel the back of Charity’s head again.

“Hard enough to knock some sense into me, babe.” She runs her thumb across Vanessa’s bottom lip. “For the record, I’ve known that I’ve loved you. Even before I fell.” Her nose brushes against Vanessa’s cheek. “Do you…”

“I love you,” Vanessa says quickly. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll not leave you for a mechanic in Robblesfield.”

Vanessa stills for a minute. “I should hope not.”

“Or a banker named Liam.” Charity nods, sure. “On Christmas Eve in, say, ten years? I’m going to be right by your side. Wrangling grandchildren and stopping Ryan from drinking us dry.”

“He’s already legless, is he?”

Charity nods. “A true Dingle.” She pulls Vanessa closer, their bodies flush. “Maybe someday, if you’d like… Maybe you can be a Dingle, too.”

Vanessa’s eyes widen again and she searches Charity’s face, waiting for a joke that’s not coming. 

“You don’t have to answer now,” Charity says. She presses her lips to Vanessa’s forehead. “Someday, I’ll ask you for real and you can answer me then.”

“You’ve really hit your head.”

Charity nods. “Hurts,” she admits.

“Reckon I should kiss it better.” Vanessa pushes up onto her tiptoes.

“Reckon you should kiss  _ me _ .” Charity holds Vanessa in place, eyes falling to her lips. 

Vanessa grins, a slow stretch across her face. “Tell me more about this Christmas Eve ten years from now.”

There’s a fluttering in her chest that doesn’t hurt, that doesn’t overwhelm or choke her. It’s soft and warm and Charity wants to keep it, hold it, forever. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

“Like,  _ I love you _ ?” Vanessa’s voice is quiet and searching.

“Especially that,” Charity breathes, chasing the words with her lips, kissing Vanessa soundly. She pulls back a bit, her mouth still brushing Vanessa’s. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Vanessa smiles. “Merry Christmas, Charity Dingle.”

Charity pulls Vanessa in again. “And a Happy New Year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading along!


End file.
